


I Meant It

by LetmeliveTM



Series: I Love You [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, First Kiss, Greg calling Sherlock 'sunshine' is my aesthetic, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, I. Suck. At. Tags., It's bad, Less angst than the last I figure tho, M/M, NO RLY, Sherlock finally cries omg, The Final Problem, idek where it came from-, it's so cute, sherlock s4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:34:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26025037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetmeliveTM/pseuds/LetmeliveTM
Summary: „Love planted a rose and the world turned sweet."- Katherine Lee Bates[Pt 2 to I Love You, I'd recommend you read that first if you want this to make more sense lmao]Sherlock is drained, John is worried and they both need each other.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: I Love You [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1889092
Comments: 1
Kudos: 57





	I Meant It

Sirens wailed in the distance, growing steadily louder and Sherlock wearily raised his head from his sister's hair.  
He could still feel the after effects of whatever drug Eurus had given him and his memory was blurred and slow.  
He remembered waking up in a cell, the governor killing himself and the three men hanging from ropes. He remembered John, the phone call, the 'I love yous' and him threatening to kill himself. Redbeard-...no...Victor. Victor in the well and Eurus in her blackened and charred bedroom. 

Red and blue lights flashed across the walls as the cacophony of noise rose to it's peak and all Sherlock could bring himself to do was drop his head back down. He closed his eyes, and let out a half sigh, half sob as his aching limbs throbbed painfully.

Eurus gripped him tighter when heavy footsteps thundered up the stairs and Sherlock curled protectively around his little sister, "It's okay" he whispered despite himself, "It's all going to be okay..."

_________________________

If you had told Sherlock 5 years ago that he would actually appreciate a shock blanket, he would've laughed and slammed the door in your face. Yet, here he was, sitting on the step to the back of an ambulance with the bright orange blanket draped over his hunched shoulders.

The lights were too bright and made his already painful headache progress towards migraine territory, combine that with the consistent radio chatter and clamour of voices and Sherlock is well on his way to mind numbing pain.  
Maybe it would be a good thing. If he couldn't think, he couldn't remember, and if that meant a migraine then so be it. Sherlock would give anything to never have to think again.

"Sherlock?"  
Sherlock looked up from where he had been staring at his hands, cradled in his lap, and straight into the eyes of Greg Lestrade, "Hey, Sunshine, John's looking for you, you should go to him if you're not too roughed up, he was in borderline hysterics when I left him" the DI said, looking at Sherlock as though the detective may shatter at any second.  
Under normal circumstances, Sherlock would sneer at being looked at in that way in any capacity, but right now he could understand it; he wasn't entirely sure what he looked like but he knew it was far from his usual self. Besides, it's not like he had the strength nor willpower to tell Greg to stop.

Sherlock's heart rate picked up and he nodded, standing a little too quickly for his body's liking - the world turned on it's axis for a couple seconds and his head pounded painfully - but he wrapped his blanket tighter around himself before trudging off through the wet grass to find his companion.

He had, shamefully, not thought about John since the phone call, too caught up in the whirlwind that was Eurus' sick games and the prospect of never leaving that cursed prison alive. But he was alive, a bit shaken up and probably harbouring more emotional damage than he had the energy to process, but he was alive.  
He owed John an explanation. More than that. He owed years of unsaid words and sorrys that Sherlock's pride had cruelly withheld from his best friend. An explanation first, though, he'll get to the rest later, right now, he needed to find John and fucking talk to him.

After a while of weaving through police officers and paramedics, Sherlock found John at the sidelines of the crime scene, his hands buried in his coat pockets and his jaw clenched. He was looking around, probably for Sherlock, with his mouth pressed into a thin line and his brow furrowed into a worried expression that drew deep lines into his skin.

It took him a moment to notice Sherlock, but when he did they both froze. They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, cataloging each other's faces and posture like it was the last time they'd ever see one another. It felt impossible, both unwilling to be too hopeful and think they weren't staring at a mirage, a harmless figment of their imaginations brought on by fear and the single wish for the other to please be alive.

After whatever barrier that had caused them to pause broke, the pair of them bolted towards each other, exhaustion forgotten as John ducked under the police tape that sectioned the area off and Sherlock's blanket slipped off his shoulders.

They met halfway and didn't think to pause as they embraced each other, stumbling from the force with which they had collided and almost toppling over before they regained their balance.

All the anguish and pain Sherlock had kept at bay burst forth in a choked sob, salty tears finally falling freely and rapidly down his cheeks as he pressed his face into John's shoulder, his body shaking with the strength of each violent sob.  
John was crying too, albeit more quietly as he sank a hand into Sherlock's dark curls,  
"Oh god, I was so worried" He breathed, sinking to his knees and pulling Sherlock down with him, heedless of the wet grass and the water seeping through their clothes, "You have no idea, Sherlock, I swear, I thought I was dying."  
Sherlock's only reply was incoherent mumbles through the heavy sobs that wracked his body and John reluctantly pulled back to give the detective room to breathe.

"Hey...hey now, it's okay" John soothed, brushing away the tears dropping from Sherlock's face in vain as more poured from his reddening eyes, "You're safe now, alright? I'm here. I'm here and I always will be, I promise"  
Sherlock struggled to take back control over his voice, wiping his eyes and nose on the back of his sleeve as he tried to breath through the hiccups he choked up. John just gently rubbed Sherlock's shoulder, cupping the man's face with his free hand and whispering soft encouragements.

John has never seen Sherlock loose control like this. Never seen the man properly weep with such hopeless abandon and he wished to never see it again. He vowed, that day, that he would never allow Sherlock to reach a point such as this ever again, for as long as he should live. He made it as he pressed his forehead to Sherlock's and closed his eyes, listening to the soft hiccoughs of his first love over the hum of voices and staticky radios.

"I-...I meant i-it" Sherlock stuttered, voice nasally and broken by jumps in his breathing.  
John pulled back and looked into the cool eyes that had gripped tightly onto his heart and hadn't let go since that fateful day at Bart's hospital.  
"Meant what?" John asked gently, his face still mere inches from Sherlock's as he tenderly tucked a wayward curl behind the detective's ear.

Sherlock searched his face for a second, his eyes briefly darting down to his lips before locking onto John's gaze again. There was a short pause before Sherlock surged forwards and kissed John, grabbing onto the doctor's shoulders with an iron grip as he did so.  
John didn't hesitate or stop to think before kissing back, sinking a hand into the sea of dark curls atop Sherlock's head and pulling the detective closer.

It was messy and desperate and probably not the best in full perspective, but to them it was perfect; a moment of pure clarity between them as years of pent up frustration and anger washed away like sea foam drying up on the shore. It was triumphant in a way, and, if you asked either of them, they wouldn't trade it for a thing.

When they pulled away for air, John kissed Sherlock's nose and the duo laughed softly, blinking back more oncoming tears in favour of embracing each other and savouring this moment. This beautiful, broken moment that encapsulated their entire relationship up until this point.  
"C'mon, Sherl, let's get you home, yeah?" John said, smiling when Sherlock nodded and he helped him to his feet, steadying him when he stumbled, "Easy now, you've had a rough night. I'll get Lestrade to give us a lift home and we can just go to bed, how does that sound?"

They both knew they needed to talk, to iron things out before they moved forward with this new aspect of their relationship, but they were both exhausted and desperately needed a moment of quiet. 

Just the two of them, together, and nothing else.

Sherlock nodded and allowed John to steer him towards a police car, leaning into the shorter man and smiling weakly as he closed his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Oof!  
> Finished this quicker than I expected so idk if that's a testament to the quality but-  
> Here it is! Tadaaa~  
> I'm not as keen on this one as I am on the first part but I think it's alright.  
> A possible part 3 will take longer since it's a lot of talking about feelings and fluff with a bit of angst so •3•  
> I'm not good wth feelings irl so it'll be difficult but I'm ready for the challenge lmao
> 
> Lotta love ~G


End file.
